


TJ's Diary

by Squilkey



Series: Neighbours [4]
Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Diary/Journal, Dyscalculia, Heavy TJ focus, Kippen Siblings, M/M, Rants, confused feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 14:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16855747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squilkey/pseuds/Squilkey
Summary: TJ's anger problems start getting worse, and Amber offers a solution which TJ agrees to... under certain conditions. He wouldn't ever admit it to his sister, but it does help, a lot, and helps him make sense of two big problems in his life.





	TJ's Diary

**Author's Note:**

> believe it or not this idea came from a pretend rp i hopped into for about 2 minutes... you can thank @cyrushoodman on tumblr... although it really didn't end up much like whatever was going on in that server

TJ occasionally had problems with his anger. It started in 7th grade, which his parents would insist was due to no longer having a designated time to run around outside for a portion of the school day. And maybe that was part of it, but he had sports. He had hours of sports a week, he was on three different teams when he was 13, and he still just couldn’t keep it together sometimes.

Amber told him he probably had a ‘trigger’ but TJ wasn’t trying to sit down and have a conversation with her about that. He just hated doing certain things, but if he was forced to do them, he was going to get angry anyway, talking wouldn’t help.

“It would,” Amber pushed, pulling him back into her third attempt of the 'anger' conversation that month.

“Do you want me to punch you?” TJ growled.

“I can hit harder than you can,” Amber replied, tightening her grip on his wrist. “Just talk to me! Or talk to someone! You’re going to end up getting in even more trouble.”

“You’re crazy if you think talking to you would help,” TJ shot back, still trying to pulls his arm out from her hand.

“Fine!” She let go, causing him to trip backwards over his own feet. He was mad, even more mad than he was when their conversation started. She was out his door before he could retaliate, so he swung at the wall, wincing as his fist made contact with the plaster. “You’re an idiot!” He heard her yell.

He looked at the wall and then his fist, frowning. It didn’t make him feel better, his knuckles just stung. He threw himself down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.  He had lost it over a worksheet, over a freaking worksheet. A dumb, one page, ten problem set of math questions. In a class he was failing anyway. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe properly, but he felt restless. He sat back up, looking back at the wall he had punched.

Why didn’t it help? Wasn’t it supposed to? Getting out your anger by punching something, by being aggressive. He tried to think back on the moments he had gotten like this, and what he had done to calm down, but he was coming up blank. He had never felt this frustrated until middle school. Until they had assignments that he couldn’t just blow off. Elementary had been easy to fake his way through, he just, wouldn’t turn in the things he couldn’t do and scrape by with participation and citizenship grades. Why were they graded all of a sudden? Why did he have so much _work._

He looked out his window at Cyrus’ house, wondering if he could just transfer to his school. Certainly he would have less homework. It would probably be better for him in every aspect. They had way more kids, and much better sports teams because of it. TJ would probably be able to play for Grant High when he was older if he went to Jefferson. They had the best basketball team in the district, and go to travel to a new city every year for the state championships. He wouldn’t ever have to worry about math or science classes then, he could probably just take fun classes at public school.

He pulled his eyes away from the window and to his dresser. Basketball, that was what he cared about, that was on his mind, way more prominent than math. He passed his desk, flipping the worksheet over and slamming it down. He changed into shorts and a tank and jogged down the stairs to the garage, slamming it on his way out.

It should have helped, but he just grew increasingly more frustrated with himself. He was missing easy shots, he was dribbling poorly, he couldn’t stay focused. He dropped the ball to the ground, kicking it and watching it slam into a pile of junk in the back of the garage. What was wrong with him? How could one dumb, insignificant worksheet cause him so many problems? He slammed the door again, running straight into his sister.

“What?”

“You can’t just ignore the problem by playing basketball,” she said.

“Obviously I know that now.” He pushed passed her, trying to make a break for the stairs, but she shot out her arm. He ran into it and whipped around. “What?”

“Here,” She held out a notebook, one of the small marble ones he used for English class, “Take this.”

“I don’t want your diary, Amber.”

“It’s yours.”

TJ barked out a laugh, “No, thanks.”

“If you won’t talk, you can write.” She pushed it into his chest. “It helps. Just try writing about what’s making you angry.”

TJ cocked an eyebrow, swiping the book from Amber and walking into the kitchen to grab a pen. He bent over the counter, making a show of opening the diary to the first page and writing in big, block letters: YOU. He pushed it over to her and smiled. “Happy?”

Amber rolled her eyes, pushing it back. “I’m trying to help you,” she pushed.

“If you want to help me, do my math homework.”

Amber looked down at the diary, then up at TJ. “Okay. I’ll do it.” TJ blinked at her. She was going to do his homework? Just like that? “Only if every time I’m working on your math, you’re writing in that diary.” Ah, the catch.

TJ looked at the diary and thought about the worksheet sitting upstairs. That dumb book was definitely the better of the two. Besides, she didn’t say what he had to write. He shrugged. “Okay, deal.” She nodded and told him to go get his assignment, and he was back down in the kitchen within a minute.

They sat at the breakfast table, separate assignments in front of them. “Explain what you’re doing in class right now,” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“TJ.”

“I don’t know, Amber! I literally do not know.”

“Okay, alright, calm down.”

Amber telling him to calm down always made him feel worse, like he was mad for no reason. There was a reason, it was sitting right in front of her. He wanted to yell back, but he stopped himself, looking at the open journal with the word ‘YOU’ already written down. He could write about Amber, why she was pissing him off. He could rant about his sister while she sat there doing his homework for him. He huffed, bringing his pen to the paper.  

_You’re forcing me to write this because you think I cant control my temper. You think im inferior to you because you come off as perfect. You think your advice is always the best advice._

He looked over to Amber, who was scribbling on the worksheet, deep in thought.

_But you ended up doing my homework for me so I guess I cant complain. Im not angry about that I dont think. Im actually happy I don’t have to do it but also I still have math at school._

He stopped writing and read over what he had written. He turned the page quickly, starting at the top. He wrote ‘MATH’ just as he had written ‘YOU’ on the previous page.

_I have to count on my fingers and it makes me look stupid. No one else does but I have to. I cant do it in my head and we’re just expected to know things in class. I just have to know what plus what is something. It doesn’t make sense. Its dumb. Its useless and its boring and i look like an idiot because im obviously behind everyone in class. I don’t want to do it though. I try and when I look at the numbers I just want to yell and punch something. Its the biggest waste of time to me and ill never need to do math actually but I know ill have to keep doing it until I graduate high school. If I graduate high school. I just hate feeling so dumb I just hate—_

“—TJ.” He looked up to his sister, who was standing up, smirking down at him. “I’m done.” She handed him the finished worksheet. “I take it writing helped?”

TJ shrugged, closing the diary and swiping it off the table. “I guess,” he admitted.

~~~

There were some things he could do, like graphs or contributions to group projects, but most assignments Amber ended up doing for him that year. Which meant he ended up writing: a lot. They would sit at the kitchen table together and if his pen wasn’t moving, her pencil wasn’t. Some days, he found himself having to adjust his handwriting just to fit things on the page; not like he needed to rant for that long, he just wanted to make sure Amber did all his homework-completely. 

He started off just ranting about math, ranting about the specific things he couldn’t understand or do from that week’s assignment. Ranting about something that happened in class that day, or a comment he overheard about his abilities. He filled up two diaries completely by March of that year. And in the end, they weren’t all math-related rants: some were crude drawings or just scribbles, some were raps he was working on, some were rants about team members or friends, and a few were about his sister.

Amber was incredibly pleased, however, the homework barely took up any of her time and she claimed it was good review for her classes. She had forced the diary onto him, and while she promised she never looked in it, TJ didn’t trust her. Sometimes he wrote small notes to her on the side of his own writing, things he knew she would laugh at or feel guilty about when she was snooping. It was that, on top of the rants, that really helped him calm down.

Through it all, he had to admit that it helped his anger. Even though not dealing with the homework anymore was probably a big factor, he still wasn’t getting as frustrated in class (granted he tuned most of it out). He was able to focus more in basketball practises after they sat down together, and he wouldn’t snap at kids for messing him up in games or drills.

His improving grade was reflected in his progress report, and his parents were incredibly pleased. He had a B at the end of that grading period, which was the best grade he had ever received in a math class. He thought he was golden, he was getting through without really having to do anything, until he was called into the principal’s office, along with his parents.

They brought up his math grade with almost no lead in, no discussion of his other grades, of his perfect history report, just his math. TJ knew, then and there, they weren’t trying to praise him.

“His homework assignments are prefect,” his teacher explained. “They show he really knows the material, like he’s done it all before.” His parents smiled, but he didn’t return it; he waited for the drop. “But he’s completely failing the tests.” Yup, there go his parent’s smiles. “It’s like he doesn’t have a clue what we’re doing when we have exams. He’s missing almost every problem,” she explained. “I don’t want to accuse anyone of anything here, but I would say it’s like someone else is doing his homework.” He swallowed hard.

“TJ?” His mom asked.

“What’s wrong with your tests, son?” His dad added.

TJ sighed. He couldn’t throw Amber under the bus, she would definitely get the worst of it from their parents. He shrugged, “I’ve been getting help from a friend,” he said. “And looking at some stuff online.”

“Cheating?”

“No! Not cheating. I’ve been doing the work,” he lied, “I just never remember any of it. It just doesn’t stick.” It would have been the truth if he had actually looked at the assignments, he never would have been able to retain the information for the tests. He wouldn’t have been able to for the assignments, no matter how hard he worked at them.

“If we put some problems in front of you right now, could you do them?” His teacher asked. TJ shook his head. “If someone does the work for you, that’s not getting help, TJ. That’s cheating, and we take it very seriously at this school.”

“I haven’t cheated,” he muttered. “I just can’t do math. I can’t do any of it. I can’t even do that long subtracting thing. I can’t add without using my fingers,” he admitted. “Test me. Give me a basic math test, you’ll see.”

“Okay, we’ll test you,” his teacher replied. What? No, what? He didn’t actually want to take a test, he jumped up, and she sensed the panic in his movement. “It won’t be graded, TJ, but if you really think you can’t do math that simple, we probably should test you.”

He was getting mad, he felt hot all of a sudden. ‘Math that simple’? Couldn’t they just accept he was dumb and move on, what the hell did that even mean?

“We’ll schedule a test this weekend,” she continued. “I’ll be in contact with you.” His teeth were clenched, fists balled up. He let out a shaky breath as his parents thanked his teacher and led him out of the building. Luckily, they yelled at him the whole way home, so he was able to yell back, venting some of his anger. He slammed the garage door and his bedroom door on the way in, then turned to punched it. He stopped himself though, unsure exactly why, and threw himself down on his bed instead, screaming ‘fuck’ as loud as he could.

~~~

The test came too soon, and he knew he couldn’t prepare in any way. He just went, stared at the problems and equations that made no sense, filled in a few things he thought might be right, or might look right, and worked himself into a frenzy trying to figure out the rest. He had a headache ten minutes into the forty minute test. He tried to focus on the word problems as opposed to the numbers, but it didn’t do him much good. Everything he copied over looked wrong, he couldn’t tell if it matched what the problem was saying or not. He tried to copy the numbers in the set over to another piece of paper, to see them out in front of him, but he copied them wrong three times before snapping his pencil. He picked up the spare one, crossing through everything and circling a random answer. He knew it was useless, he was failing this test like he had every one before it.

When they sat down to review the results a few days later, he thought he knew exactly what his teacher was going to say. ‘You’re dumb. You should be in math with the kindergarteners, you’re missing half you brain. We’re holding you back next year.’

“I think you have dyscalculia, TJ,” she said, sighing over the results.

TJ frowned. “What?”

“Dyscalculia, it’s like dyslexia with numbers.” Dyslexia, like, a learning disability? “It’s not very common but we’ve had a few kids in the school with it, we have the resources to help you. You won’t be held back or penalised for you grades up until now,” she said. Was that better or worse than being dumb? It seemed worse, like, he had something actually wrong with him. He didn’t want to be there anymore, she tried explaining more, but he couldn't listen. He got up from his chair, pushing out of the office and running out the building. He dropped against the wall, whipping out his phone and blindly calling a number.

“Hey, TJ!” The voice picked up. TJ didn’t know what he was doing, why had he called him? What was he going to say? “You okay?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I called you,” TJ admitted, knocking his head back against the brick.

“Oh, okay,” the boy said quietly. “Should I hang up?”

“I have dyscalculia,” he said quickly, unsure of how the words even came out.

“Oh,” he was silent for a moment. “Well that’s good. Not the actual thing, I mean, but now you know why you can’t do math, right?” Of course he knew what it was. Of course he thought it was a good thing.

“I have a learning disability, Cyrus. I can’t tell people that.”

“That’s an overused buzzword,” Cyrus replied. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“My brain doesn’t work.”

“Your brain is fine,” Cyrus insisted. “You just need extra help. This is a good thing, TJ. You won’t be expected to do everything they’ve been making you do before, right? I’m assuming your school knows.”

“Yeah.”

“So they’ll help you. You might have tutoring but you probably won’t have to do as much math. And your grade won’t be as affected. And you’ll probably get out of taking tests, or at least when everyone else takes them. You'll get extra time, and probably get to ask as many questions as you need to. And they can't fail you for having it.” Cyrus' voice was steady, and every sentence made TJ feel a little lighter. 

He knew why he called Cyrus. He always calmed him down. He always knew what to say, how to make things look better than they did inside TJ’s head. He let out a breath, nodding to the boy that couldn’t see him. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He was going to hang up, explain that he should probably go back to his parents and his teacher, but he didn't want to let go of that voice. He still needed him, for whatever reason. “Can you tell me about your day?” He asked. 

~~~

TJ had a tutor by the end of the month, and regular meetings scheduled every week from then on until the end of the summer. But it barely helped his anger. He still had to do math and it still made him want to lash out at any moment. He couldn’t call Cyrus every time he got angry. He couldn’t call Cyrus every week. That was, well, it wasn’t what a normal 13 year old boy did. After a little over a week of Amber no longer doing his homework, he caved. He looked at the diary on his desk and swiped it, walking to her room.

“Amb?” He knocked on her door, causing it to crack open.

“Yes, little brother?” She was lying on her stomach across the bed, laptop in front of her.

“Can we,” he paused, looking down at the diary in his hand, “Do homework?”

She could have teased him, it was a great opportunity, but she didn’t. She closed her laptop and nodded. “Kitchen table?”

And that’s where they sat, every Tuesday and Thursday after school until the summer. TJ writing in the diary and Amber working on her actual homework. He started off ranting again, just venting his anger, raps and drawings long forgotten, but by May, he wasn’t as angry anymore. At least, not nearly as angry as he used to get. He continued writing about himself, though: venting about something else or someone else if math wasn’t too bad, or recapping games, writing about the teams he hated, or the small things that annoyed him. But it was always about him. It was always his thoughts and feelings, his personal issues he had. Until two week before the end of school, that is.

~~~

For the first time since he started writing, he found himself sitting at the table with someone else’s problems on his mind. A person who had managed to block all of his own thoughts that day, managed to completely distract him, and take him outside of his own head.

‘CYRUS’ he scrawled across the top.

_Nothing annoying happened today, for what feels like the first time in like forever. Which is probably not true but today math didn’t make me mad. It was just as awful I guess. I mean I know it was, but I was distracted the whole time. Even tuning out the class before still made me mad, but cyrus managed to keep me completely distracted ~~and confused~~_

_He texted me in the middle of the day which never happens. I don’t think I’ve ever received a text from him while he was in a class, it’s very_ _weird_ _out of character for cyrus. Idk why but it worried me. He was responding quickly. I don’t know why I knew something was wrong, im normally pretty bad at being able to tell but I guess I think I know cyrus pretty well_ ~~_I think I_ ~~

_He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, which was the worst part._ ~~_I_ _he_~~ _we talked my whole math class and it was just me trying to get him to calm down which im shit at so I don’t know why he wants to talk to me. It sucked not knowing what to say to him but he also wouldn’t tell me what was the problem so I ??? dunno. When he told me he wasn’t in class I wanted to call him. ~~Just to hear is voice~~  To hear if he was panicking to make sure he wasnt I guess but ~~it was all I could think about~~ cyrus never misses class. _

 _He told me he felt better after texting me, but all I did was tell him he was ok and that he didn’t have to worry about missing class cuz I skip all the time and im fine and he’s in public school anyway. and then he just made me talk to him, so i made up dumb shit, i told him random things that happened that day and he replied but like normal i guess  but I didn’t do anything which makes me think he’s not fine. ~~i just wanted to hear his voice~~ i dont get how i could ever make him feel better when hes the one that always makes things better ~~for me~~. I just wish he would tell me why he was upset or whatever. _ ~~_Its like he doesn’t trust me_ ~~ _or I dunno why I care I guess because_ _ _he ~~made me~~ _ ~~_feel better_  was _a good distraction_~~  made _me less annoyed but i feel like i used him even though he wouldnt even tell me what was wrong. it just frustrates me ~~i just wish he would~~ ~~i just want him to~~__

He scribbled off the writing, unsure of what he was even trying to say. He looked to Amber, who was coping notes out of a textbook that was balancing on the end of the table. He looked back down at the diary and flipped the page, hiding what he had written. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t look at it; he felt better after writing, but he also felt weird about it. He shook his head, closing the diary all together and standing up.

“You don’t have any actual homework?” Amber asked, not bothering to look up from her notes.

“We have, like, two weeks left of school. It’s just tests.”

“That you could study for,” Amber commented. TJ just shrugged, walking away from the table, and hopefully his worries about Cyrus.

~~~

When 8th grade rolled around, he had almost forgotten about the diary and his math issues. He had way more pressing issues in his life, and school was something that looked like an appealing escape next to the past week. 

But the first day of classes, without a day of tutoring, brought all his school-related frustration back. He was worried he was on the brink of breaking when he arrived home. He snapped at a 6th grader in his seat on the bus ride home and _slightly_ threatened another one. He ran home from the bus stop, hoping it would clear his mind. School work piled on top of everything else he was dealing with, more and more responsibilities that he wanted to abandon. He had math last block and the review from the year before was too overwhelming. Math class was one extra thing he just couldn't deal with, but it also felt like the root of all his problems; the one thing that always made him mad, the thing he felt like he had to blame.

Amber was in high school that year, and he had to wait almost a full hour for her to get home. He paced around the house and when he finally heard the front door open, he practically ambushed her. “Do you have a notebook? Or something? Can we write again?” He asked.

“A diary?” Amber smirked, dropping her bag at the door.

TJ rolled his eyes, holding out his hands. “Whatever, just, something to write in.”  

Amber leaned down, rifling through her backpack. “Here,” she pulled out a slim short book, “I bought this for English but I don’t think I’m going to use it.”

TJ took it from her quickly, opening it and flipping through the blank, ruled pages. “Can we do homework? Right now?”

“I just got home,” Amber sighed. “First day of high school, pretty big deal. Pretty overwhelming,” she explained. “You know you can write without me, right?”

He did know that, but he didn’t _want_ to know that. It was a thing that had to happen, he couldn’t write without her. He couldn’t admit all his problems if she wasn’t there next to him. “Amber,” he said, a slight urgency in his tone.

She understood, thankfully she almost always did. They sat down at the kitchen table, Amber dropping her bag at the chair next to TJ, opening the new diary to the first page and hashing lines across it. Amber frowned at him, but didn’t say anything.

Now that it was in front of him, he didn’t know what to say. Why was he angry? It was the same shit, it always was. Math, not knowing what the hell was going on, not being able to copy anything from the board, and having to sit there, through it all.

 _It doesnt make sense. Im supposed to be better with a tutor, with the school knowing about my dyscalculia they’re supposed to help me. But I don’t even have tutoring until next Monday and im expected to turn in a full math review by next week and I cant fucking do that with tutoring only the day before. And I cant tell the teacher im not supposed to get the work cuz he should know, that isn’t my job, thats embarassing._ _I ~~feel worse than I normally do, more mad, and its because of cyrus~~. ~~Or because of me I guess and I hate it~~. ~~I hate myself for avoiding him~~ _

TJ stopped, blinking at the writing below him. How had he gotten to Cyrus? He was mad about math, he wanted to rant about math. He didn’t want to talk about Cyrus, there wasn’t anything to say. He frowned, crossing out the last sentence and pressing his pen back onto the notebook paper. Nothing. He couldn’t even think of a way to start a new sentence. What was he mad about? Math. He had a huge ass packet of work that was due in a week, and no way to do it.

‘MATH’ he scrawled across a new page. He crossed it out after staring at it for a few moments and wrote ‘REVIEW’. He crossed it out, slower this time. He wasn’t mad about math, or the review, he knew he didn’t have to do it. He knew he would figure something out at tutoring, like he always did. He knew the school couldn't penalise him. But he was mad. He was mad at the end of the day, after that class, and he could only think of Cyrus. He would have preferred to yell, to punch something, to punch someone: he didn’t want to write it out. But he knew it helped. He knew it was the only thing that really calmed him down, besides listening to Cyrus talk, which he absolutely couldn’t do.

He ripped out the two messy pages, balling them up and tossing the crumpled papers onto the table. He looked at the new blank lines in front of him and wrote ‘CYRUS’.

 _He didn’t come by today. He didn’t text me today. He’s not coming over now. it’s my fault but it still makes me angry. I don’t know what I expected and I don’t think I can be around him either but I thought. I dunno. I thought he still wanted to be around me. It’s like he didn’t even try. Well he didn’t so I guess thats why. I got mad last class i think cuz I realized that meant he wasn’t coming. its not math, its him. ~~i dont even know how i~~  _ _ ~~7 years and I say one shitty thing and its over~~._ _~~And I could actually fucking appreciate him now~~._ _I don’t know what I would say or what we would do if I’ve fucked it all up anyway. I don’t know how I would function normally around him. It doesn’t even have to be weird its not like anyone knows_

He stopped, looking up at Amber, who was writing in her own notebook, no attention on her brother. He looked back down, reading over the incomplete sentence and tracing over the word ‘knows’.

_knows that I like him._

He felt some invisible weight lift off him as he wrote it. Not like he felt completely better, his anger wasn’t gone, but it somehow helped.

 _He wouldn’t be able to tell, if amber cant then no one can. But I just feel weird around him, its just too weird. But I feel worse not around him like im just going to be angry forever when I think about him. ~~Like i cant focus on anything knowing he~~  everything is just worse because of it. Im not mad at him or im trying not to be. Im mad at him _~~_for being_ _for getting_~~ _for coming back from england looking like that for smiling like that and laughing how he does and for wanting to be around me his whole fucking life and now just not. I told him not to but he’s never listened to me before. At least not really. Not seriously listened when I’ve told him to fuck off. But I probably never told him to fuck off before. FUCK. This is my fault. How am I mad at him for listening to me. What is fucking wrong with me. I cant even tell if I miss him as a friend or if I just wanna be around him_ ~~ _because I want to grab him and k_~~ _~~because I want to look~~ __because I like him._

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He could say that, it was real enough. He had understood and accepted it. It needed to be on the paper. He needed to be able to see it. The rest of the stuff: the stuff he was thinking, the rest of the stuff he couldn't stop thinking about, he didn’t know if he could admit. But he liked him. He liked Cyrus. He shook his head, reading over his words. He knew he was the problem, probably knew it all along, but he just couldn't realise it himself. 

_I need to apologise. I will apologise. I fucked up. I like him and I fucked up. Its my fault and I cant be mad at him for that. Im going to talk to him._

TJ read his decision over and over again. He was going to talk to Cyrus. He had to. Amber was looking at him and he closed he diary.

“Better?” She asked. TJ nodded. At least a little.

~~~

His diary got a lot more diverse after that, especially after he and Cyrus made up. He realised that talking about the good things helped, almost as much as ranting about the bad things did. He started simply talking about his day when he didn’t need to rant about something specific. He would try to pick a subject, or something that happened in school with his friends or a teacher, but he would normally, almost always, end up talking about Cyrus. Writing about Cyrus was a mood-lifter like none other. Whatever it was: a good day with him, a bad day, a few texts between them, just writing about his voice, it made him feel better.

Amber noticed he was smiling more often than he was grunting while writing in the diary, and she tried to bring it up, but TJ snapped at her before she could get far. She smirked at him regardless, trying to lean over to see his writing.

“You haven’t looked at these, right?” He asked, pulling the book toward him, covering the writing with his hand.

“No. I don’t get in your gross room,” she replied, knocking her pencil against the table. “Why’re you so worried?”

“I’m not,” TJ mumbled scooting the book a little farther away from his chest and pushing his pen back into the paper. Amber knew he liked Cyrus, she had known for a little over a week, but he still didn’t want her knowing he _wrote_ about the kid. In his diary. That she gave him. And forced him to write in. He would never live that down.

He traced over the ‘C’ in Cyrus’ name, thinking about what he was writing pre-invasion. Cyrus had called him a lunch that day, just to talk. He wasn’t sure what it mean, that they regularly called each other now, for no real reason other than to hear each other speak. He also wasn’t sure if him lying about having lunch at the same time as Cyrus meant anything. Probably not, right? It wasn’t important that he would constantly ditch his fourth block to talk to Cyrus, right? The ‘C’ had about ten layers of ink covering it, and his hand had a black smudge across the side. He moved to a new paragraph, trying to write out their lunch-time conversation to the best of his ability.  

~~~

They were spending longer and longer at the kitchen table after school. Amber had more, and harder, homework, and TJ began writing more. Cyrus had helped with his anger issues substantially, he probably didn’t even need to write in the diary anymore, but he genuinely enjoyed it. It was part of his routine, it was something he just did (and he liked to believe the meetings helped Amber get her homework done).

The diary Amber had given him on the first day of school was already half-full at the beginning of October. TJ dropped it on his desk after ranting about math for an hour. They had just taken their first test of the year, and he was in an awful mood at the end of it. It was the first time in weeks that he had actually used the diary to vent. He was used to  just calling Cyrus, but that was for the little things that angered him, not the full-breakdown things. He didn’t want to bother Cyrus like that, he didn't need Cyrus to see that side of him. And writing had worked, well enough at least. He changed for basketball practise and left the house for the courts a few blocks away.

Practise was two hours, a perfect follow to venting about math, and just enough time to clear his head completely. They wrapped up their scrimmage early, before the sun set, and TJ opted to run home as a cool down, meaning he got back a little earlier than normal. He dropped his ball into the bucket in the garage and came in through the side door, kicking off his shoes into the kitchen. He’d probably get yelled at for it later, but he was too tired to worry.

When he reached the top of the landing, he frowned. His bedroom door was ajar, and he was sure he had closed it completely behind him. He approached slowly, careful not to give himself away, and pushed open the door. Amber was lying on his bed, elbows propping up her head, feet up in the air, and his diary spread out in front of her.

“What the fuck, Amber,” he deadpanned, slamming the door open completely. She jumped a little, closing the diary. 

“You’re home early,” she responded calmly, smiling a little.

“Are you—” He tried to look for something to grab and throw at her, but there was nothing in arms length. “I hate you,” he muttered, snatching the diary out from her arms. “You told me you didn’t look!”

“I didn’t! But you were so worried I had read it when you asked last month, and you were grinning the whole week until today—you looked mad—so I wanted to make sure nothing bad had happened between you and Cyrus,” she explained.

“There’s nothing between me and Cyrus,” TJ said through gritted teeth, staring her down.

“Oh, no? So all your little daydreams about him? Your conversations with him?" She slipped off his bed, walking closer. "Skipping classes just to talk to him? What’s all that?" She stepped closer. "Wait, what about his voice? I'm sure there was something in there.” She moved to grab the diary from his hand, but he blocked her, pushing her away. 

“You’re a bitch. Get out of my room.”

She rolled her eyes. “There is something between you and Cyrus,” she insisted, leaning against the doorframe. “Maybe you should read your own diary for once.”

“You know it’s one-sided.” TJ pointed out the door, his stare unblinking. “Get out before I actually hit you.”

She knocked him on the head as she exited. “That’s not what Cyrus told me.”

“What?” TJ whipped around. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry, I’m getting kicked out of this conversation,” she replied with a smile.

“Amber.”

“TJ.”

“What did Cyrus say?” She rose an eyebrow, but stayed silent. “Amber!” She smiled and mimed locking her lips with an invisible key. “Are you serious? You're the fucking worst.”

“Rant about it in your diary,” she replied, walking down the hall.

TJ frowned, slamming the door to his room. He looked at the book in his hand and flipped it open to the first page, where ‘CYRUS’ was scrawled across the top.

He dropped down onto his bed as he reread the words he had written only a month earlier. It was crazy how different things were now. How he had scribbled across so many sentences, afraid to write how he felt. He knew he was holding back so much in that rant, and yet he couldn’t really remember most of it. He just knew his feelings were suppressed. He could have written for pages about how his feelings towards Cyrus. He fingered through the following pages: he eventually had.

He closed the diary and looked up at his door. Amber wasn’t messing with him; she wouldn’t, not about Cyrus, not like that. He took a deep breath and pulled out his phone, dialing the boy who was always on his mind.


End file.
